Hot Chocolate Doesn't Last Forever
by GoWashTheLights
Summary: No matter how hard they try, those living in Wayne Manor often have a hard time connecting with one another. Rainy nights and Joker fights don't exactly help, either. ONESHOT.


**Author Note (EDIT):** So, I was unaware that songfics really aren't allowed here (whoops, my bad), which I understand due to copyright. So, I removed the lyrics. I'm a little bummed, but I still like the story. It goes along with the song, "Far From Home," from Five Finger Death Punch. You're free to listen to it as you read :) Thanks!

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Batman, its characters, etc.

* * *

The laundry was finally done. The dishes were washed and put away. The banisters had been dusted, polished, and cleaned of daily fingerprints. With the garden swept again of September leaves, and the fire going in the next room, Alfred knew his work was done. The call he'd received

minutes before told him he didn't have long to wait for the vigilantes to come home. In fact, he'd barely made it to the very bottom step of the cave before the car pulled in. There was a hesitant moment that passed, then the doors finally opened, and out stepped Robin. Batman wasn't far

behind, and the both of them looked a little more roughed up than usual.

"Wait a minute, Robin," said Batman.

"Look," came the tired response, "it's cool, Bats. I get it, I made a mistake, and I'll work on it tomorrow."

It was one of those nights, apparently. Alfred watched as Robin pulled off his shades for the night, revealing a swollen eye. Bruce pulled away his mask and shook his head. "That's not what I meant. You're injured."

"I'm fine, okay? I'll be fine. I just want to go up and relax, and forget tonight ever happened."

"Master Grayson," Alfred started, "if you're injured, I should - "

"No, Alfred, it's really okay." Dick interrupted. "Just...get us something warm to drink, or whatever. We'll be up in a couple of minutes."

Alfred nodded. "Of course." He took his leave. Sometimes it was disheartening, being Alfred. Sure, it was his job to clean and tidy up and take orders, but he was so much more useful than that. He knew that those two knew, but they were so prideful. Tonight seemed to be a night for hot

chocolate. The rain everyone had expected hours ago finally began to patter onto the windows, bringing the silent house back to life. Alfred turned with the tray in hand, finding Bruce already in the doorway. "Master Bruce?"

"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce took one of the cups, his eyes wandering to nowhere in particular. He was obviously ready for a good night's sleep.

Alfred cleared his throat. "May I ask, is anything wrong?"

Bruce shook his head, a smile barely on his lips. "Nah. A case of the blues, is all. He'll get over it."

"And yourself?"

The smile grew. "Already over it."

Alfred nodded. "Of course. If you'll excuse me, where is Master Grayson?"

"By the fireplace. Goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight, Master Bruce." Alfred walked down the hall, turning into the desired room. The flame light flickered softly on the wall - it was relaxing. Alfred found the boy curled up in the comfy chair, a thick blanket over himself. One of his legs stuck out from underneath, hanging comfortably over

the side. The light reflected into his eyes, which looked far away. His hand, also pulled out from the blanket, drummed gently over his stomach to whatever music was plugged into his ears. Alfred had to stand directly in front of him to be noticed, which provoked a startle.

"Oh, hey, Alfred." Dick pulled one of the headphones from his ear, looking up.

"I apologize, Master Grayson. Would you like your drink?"

"Y-Yeah, thanks. I almost forgot about that, sorry."

Alfred smiled, handing over the mug. "Drink it now, so it doesn't get cold."

"Of course not," Dick replied, smiling and taking a deep gulp. "It's perfect, as usual. Thanks a lot."

Alfred placed the tray over his arm, hesitating. "Are you certain you're well? How seriously were you injured?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I'll just sleep it off and be better by tomorrow. No worries over me, got it?"

"...Understood. Goodnight, Master Grayson."

"Night," Dick mumbled. Once alone again, he replaced the earphone and let himself drown in heavy metal once again. The constant beat seemed to vent his frustrations in every note. He looked up at the painting of his parents, a deep sigh escaping his body. He'd stopped crying over them

years ago, but it still hurt. He'd taken his path now with Bruce, fighting criminals for a reason that sometimes seemed unclear. The adventure once felt was dying off, and Dick was getting tired. "Robin" was just fine - upbeat, witty, and diligent; he had to be. He had to pretend that idiots like

the Joker getting the better of him didn't matter. At least his superhero side was strong, so he could hide behind it. Dick wondered if "Batman" was the same way. He sighed; he hardly knew his mentor, and sometimes it was just too much. A shadow along the wall eventually caught his

attention, so he sat up and again. Leaning forward, he watched Bruce himself head to the grandfather clock against the far wall. Dick nearly cleared his throat, but he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to say. He was irritated, anyhow, and he didn't like sounding unprepared. So, he settled

back into the chair, and closed his eyes for the night.

Bruce rubbed a sore shoulder on his way downstairs, shivering. The cave was always cold, but the current rainfall wasn't helping. He knew he wouldn't be down here for long, but he wished he'd not been so hasty to finish his drink. He was exhausted, and was ready for a few decent hours

of sleep for once. Examining a few files on the case he was following would hardly interfere, now that he knew the Joker was involved. It didn't surprise him, really; a trail of robberies at toy stores was right up the psycho's alley. However, Bruce had yet to figure out the why and when of it

all. He reached his desk and sat in the chair, avoiding the temptation to lean back and relax. Typing in details from tonight's little episode, however, distracted him all the same. Robin had been overly-confident until the last moment, when he'd quite literally stumbled into a trap that his

mentor had warned could possibly be there. The fight after that hadn't lasted long, with Batman's partner out of commission underneath a pile of toys. Pulling the kid from the wreckage afterward had no doubt been embarrassing for the both of them. That idiot just didn't listen.

Alfred hadn't been too pleased with either of them, and Bruce really was irked over the guilt trip that old man could cause with a look. Just one glance, and you were done for - that look that Bruce felt he'd long since outgrown. He sighed, finally sitting back. He knew he did the same thing to

Dick, and wondered when all of them would meet eye-to-eye. It seemed pretty impossible, but at least they tried to be a family...sometimes. It was probably just because of the boy, still so in need of someone in his life. Alfred was a good man, but he was getting older. Bruce was the last

person he'd choose to be a good father, and never really understood his own reason for having adopted Dick Grayson. He was grateful for the two of them, though, because they were walking reality checks. They kept him from drowning in the one thing he sometimes so desperately wanted,

to be Gotham's constant hero. If not for them, he'd most likely waste away his life in his work, which he would be fine with. He just wished he could connect the two worlds more perfectly, as he did in his nightly crusades. Yawning, Bruce hardly noticed his head falling back, or his eyelids

finally growing too heavy to lift again. He'd wake up in the morning in the same place, a blanket over him, and he'd wonder briefly why he hand't just gone to bed. Then he'd thank Alfred, and try to mend things with his young partner, as usual, and life would go on.


End file.
